The First Problem
by Johnlockisagirlsname
Summary: Set before Sherlock returns after jumping off the building. John doesn't know how to cope with Sherlock's 'death'. This story follows his day to day life until Sherlock comes back.


"Sherlock!" I shouted. No reply.

"Sherlock!" still no answer. I sighed and closed my laptop. That man. I grinned to myself. That man

"Sherlock, I think you-" Then I remembered. I breathed in deeply, closed my eyes and exhaled. I stood up, and walked into the kitchen. I saw the emptiness on the kitchen table; no microscope, no test tubes, just the bare wooden table. I opened the fridge. No heads. No thumbs. Just food. Not that many people would call it food. Just beer and pizza. And in the freezer, chips. Sherlock always loved chips. I took a beer and cracked it open. I went back into the living room, or the consulting room as he called it. I stop. There are too many chairs. Too many. I sat in the one that used to be mine. I couldn't sit there. I couldn't look at his empty chair. I couldn't sit there though. So I sat in the consultants chair. And I cried. I cried and I cried. My shoulders shook and I dropped my beer. I jumped up as it spilled onto the floor. "FUCK!" I sank to my knees. After a while I managed to stop crying but I felt one hunfren times worse. I went into the bathroom. I saw the razor blade and I picked it up.

Harry came round one day. She was sweet. Everyone was. But it was like she was creeping around the issue. She talked about me. She asked why I wasn't enjoying myself. Asked if I had any "interests" as she put it.

"There's one woman but-"

"Oh, do tell!" she said.

"She's called Mary but…" I stopped, choking down my sobs.

"But what?" Her tone was gentle now.

"I…" I let out a big sob, a sound of utter misery.

"John, when Clara and I broke up I was devastated. I didn't know how to handle it. But now, look where I am with Emma. I thought I would never find another one like Clara but now but…"

"What?"

"Oh, it was supposed to be a surprise!"

"Harry what is it?"

"Well…" She took in a deep breath, "We're getting married in the summer!"

"I'm so happy for you!" I was, but it just reminded me. Everyone else's life was moving ahead but mine was just, stuck.

"John, I know you're upset."

"I'm fine. I just need-"

"John!" She sounded firmer this time. "Tell me the truth."

"It's not fair! You don't know how I feel, no clue at all. Sherlock's gone and he's never coming back and I don't know why everyone keeps ignoring the problem IT'S STILL THERE!"

"John, this is why I came to speak to you. We need to talk about _you._ It's been almost a year and you've completely shut yourself never pick up your phone, you've stopped uploading on your blog and you are always at home in that old flat-"

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE FLAT?" I stopped, realising what i had just said. "I'm sorry it's just…"

"You don't need to apologise. But this is what I'm talking about. You're _so_ goddamn sensitive. You need to get out. Socialise. Go on a date, with that women Mary!"

"I don't know…"

"Come on! You'll have fun! Look, do we have a deal or not?" She put out her hand and I grinned. Harry as so pushy but it was impossible not to like her. I took her hand.

"Deal."

I waited and waited. At one point I was going to get up and leave. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

 _Hi John!_

 _Sorry but I'm running a bit late. Just getting into a cab now. Mary x_

I opened my phone and went on to texts. Mary's text was the first one I had received in months. The last text was from…

Sherlock. I took a sharp breath in. _Not here._ I thought. _Not now._ I waited another 20 minutes and then I saw her. She looked stunning. Her hair was pulled back and it showed all of her care-free face. She looked incredible but… I only went for Harry really. I didn't want her worrying. Mary is nice but I couldn't see us together.

She looked around the room then finally saw me. She came over and sat down at the table.

"John!"

"Mary"

"How lovely to see you!"

"You too"

I looked down. Things were already going downhill.

"So," she started "Dinner"

"Um, yeah. I guess it finally happened."

Slowly the tension eased and for the first time in months, I was having fun. But deep down in the pits of my stomach, I felt guilty.

"So, how's your leg?" she asked

"My leg?"

"Yes your leg"

"Sorry, what do you mean?" I couldn't think of what she meant.

"I've seen you limping on it. It must have been recently because I've only just noticed it, and I'm a nurse. When did that happen?" I gaped, shocked. I hadn't had a limp since… Sherlock.

"John?" I snapped back to the restaurant.

"Afghanistan" I replied?

"Afghanistan?"

"Yes" I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming.

"Well… how come it's just come back?" I sighed.

"About four years ago I met a man called Sherlock Holmes. You've probably heard about him. He was a consulting detective and we went on load of cases together and I saved him and he saved me. Then there was this guy called Moriarty who was-" My rant had been disrupted. I had realised something.

"Who was what?"

"How did you know?"

"Sorry"

"You asked why my limp had come back. You knew I had it before." I sighed. "How the hell did you know?"

"John, I-"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?" I was standing up now. People were staring. Mary was looking down into her lap. When she looked up, I saw she was crying.

"I read your blog."

"Of course you did"

"John please I didn't want to hurt you." She looked genuinely sorry. But she lied. I picked up my coat and walked out. She didn't try to stop me. After taking a cab back to the flat, I went straight to bed. But this time I went to Sherlock's room, not mine. It didn't feel strange though. It felt like that was where I was supposed to be. I sat awake for a while, reading. Then I found myself crying. Again. I didn't know if I could trust anyone anymore. My life was falling apart, piece by piece. And it was all his fault.

I woke to the sound of a loud slam. After a few dazed seconds I realised what the sound was. Someone was trying to kick the door down. I looked at my watch, 04:18. I stumbled to the door, reaching for my gun in my jacket pocket. For a moment the flat was silent. Then I the person walk. They walked so slowly, it was like they were trying to take in every detail. Then I heard them walk away,, to the window. It was then I realised that it was most likely to be a man. The amount of footsteps to the window; they were long footsteps. Could be a very tall woman but balance of probability. I grinned to myself. Sherlock would have been impressed, slightly. Maybe even proud. Then I heard them again. The footsteps, coming closer this time. Closer. Closer. Closer. He stopped in front of the door. The doorknob turned, slowly, slowly. Like he was seeing how it turned. The door creaked open. I took aim with my gun. I had killed once, I could kill again. My hands shook. I felt giddy and lightheaded. I kept my eyes trained on the door. I needed to see his face.

Then I did. I saw the high cheekbones. The eyes the colour of the sea.

"John" he whispered

"Sherlock" It was him. It was really him.

"John I do realise I was away for a significant amount of time and for that I must apologise." I touched his face. Ran my thumb along his didn't move but started to turn a slight shade of pink.

"John may I ask what you are doing?"

"Where were you?"

"Hiding" He paused, for a moment I thought he was going to make a deduction. He looked almost sad in the dim light.

"John I can't tell you why but what I can tell you is that…" He paused and sighed "I missed you" His eyes pleaded with forgiveness.

"Do you have any idea what I've been through?" My voice was quaking. With trembling hands, I undid the cuff of my shirt and pulled up my sleeves. Along my arm there were long, red scars. "I did this for you." I whispered.

"John" Sherlock sat down onthe bed and took off his scarf. Then his coat, then his blazer. He slowly started unbuttonning his shirt. I had no idea what he was doing. When he was done, he turned around. I put my hands to my mouth. Across his back there was a mess of thick white scars, bulging from his skin. It looked like a tree. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. He turned around.

"I did this for you" I sat down on the bed, shaking all over. He held me for a while as I cried. And then he was kissing me. I was shocked at first, then I was kissing him back. He kissed me like he meant it. I was was healing and breaking all at once. We just sat there,kissing and crying. I wondered how long he had felt like this about me. From the start, or was this the first time, like me? _I guess I'll never know_ I thought to myself. And to be honest I didn't need to.


End file.
